Food is a great connector. In recent days, the death of Anthony Bourdain has reminded people of how food connects us. Yet, the food industry is not immune to digital disruption. So what is the future of food, and how do we make sure that all important human connection is maintained?

Will my son, who is three, be able to cook? I cook, and both my parents have worked as cooks, so I imagine that I will pass that skill on. But like driving, it might not be up to me. Cooking could become a specialised skill – or a hip one. Like listening to vinyl or playing physical board games. A novel recreation rather than an every day need.

I see the rise of Blue Apron, Uber Eats and the services around food, and it is going to change the way we make food. There’s a sandwich place I really like in Marrickville (Reuben Republic), but by the time I have finished my meal, a couple of dozen Uber Eats/Foodora/Deliveroo divers have come through. A majority of their work is delivery. I’m sitting in the store, reading a physical newspaper, like a relic of the past.

Now let’s tip the scales. If you get to the point where 80 percent of your business is delivery – how long before you close the door and just make nothing but food to deliver? Like the strange button shop on King St that does all their business online, why even open the doors and spend the cost on cleaning, cutlery and chairs? Let alone expensive licenses.

When the scales tip, they will tip for everyone. And when it doesn’t matter so much where you cook from, I imagine food will crash with another modern idea – hotdesk workplaces. I imagine an Ikea sized building, with specific but modular fittings for food creation – fridges, ovens, ventilation. It will be taken over by hundreds of vendors, big and small. And that hub serves several neighbourhoods. That strip of local restaurants will become a warehouse, with a large fleet of motorcycles, or probably drones.

That might seem extreme, but it’s definitely one way it could go. There’s a brutal, technological brilliance there. The Amazon-ing of cooked meals. With costs coming down because of the shared space, and technology driving speed increases, the game will be about delivery. You can track your meals. You can set recurring orders. Maybe even your own health data is in your profile, and allergies are taken care of. Maybe the app even tracks your intake. With managing and limiting screen time being the craze of 2018, are we that far from Foodora stepping in and giving you tools to manage your sugar?

The line about self driving cars is that it is scary until you need it. When you are hungover but need to go somewhere. Or when you can find a park so the car can go park itself in its own time. So too will the culture shift be invisible when any food you want can be delivered to your door, any time, all the time. I want a hot dog right now.

The problem with this technological efficiency is that it’s a cultural dead end. How will people discover new food? And the culture behind the food? Here is where I worry.

Hopefully, the ease of cooking promotes variety. Anyone who cooks knows that there are like maybe ten dishes in the world. Every culture has a curry, or a casserole, or a dumpling, or a noodle salad. Kimchi is essentially sauerkraut. So hopefully those similarities will drive that variety. That en masse, it’s actually easy to make a lot of different dishes from different places. This is your food for life – it needs to be more food you’ve never heard of than meals you know.

Ingredients will be a problem. With a single cooking hub, I expect business will get in the way. Is there a single tomato sponsor? A banana deal? I would like to think not – that any food hub that goes down this road will lose to the tastier food hub who lets the people who want to cook do their best. I think word of mouth will still exist in this world. But I also grant you Uber Eats does a lot of McDonalds business. But if in your app there is a delicious wood fried pizza or something from Dominos, with a small cost difference, I would like to think the Wood Fried Pizza team would be able to stay in business.

Discovery will be a problem. How do we learn about new foods? I really hope it doesn’t become like Spotify, where the app and the hub holds all the power. The food hub’s weekly playlist of dishes driving what people eat – a literal recipe for disaster. Which is why we need the children of Anthony Bourdain. We need cooking shows, meal shows, the way we need film shows and music shows. Best new albums? New blockbuster at the cinema? New cuisine for me to try?

Which is the reason I am writing this at all. That it has been on my mind that we need more shows like Phil Rosenthal’s Somebody Feed Phil or David Chang’s Ugly Delicious. And Anthony Bourdain’s wonderful shows should be treated like the Beatles back catalogue. Food shows that aren’t about cooking, but about eating, about history, about culture, about language, about life.

There is one other, important thing we need to do, no matter what happens with food and cooking as it clashes against technology. We have to keep the doors open. I can see that Ikea like hub of food stalls, but I use Ikea as the model – not an Amazon warehouse. Wherever people make food, in the future, it is essential that we can get near it. And if it’s a strange warehouse with 100 stalls inside, that it is one where people can walk around, soak up the smells, and try something. Not everyone will go, and not everyone will go all the time. But some will – and they will be literal tastemakers, who can spread the word. We should reward risk takers.

This is a fantasy. I can see restaurants going away. They’ve existed for millennia. But as the process of making and discovery of anything continue to be hidden away in black mirrors in our pockets, we need to start talking more about the things we love. And everyone loves a good meal.

I have heard, through the traps, that the owner of Sydney’s Comic Kingdom, Steve Smith, has passed away. It has brought up a swell of old memories for me. Comic Kingdom was a very important place for me.

As a kid in Sydney, I remember passing the shop on Liverpool St many times. It was near Chinatown, and I wondered what was inside long before I would go in. But when I finally did, around 1990/1991, it was a wonderland. A confusing wonderland, but a wonderland.

I know it was 1990/1991 because I remember what I bought. It was the era of some of the most seminal comics of all time. Todd McFarlane’s Spider-Man #1. Claremont and Jim Lee’s X-Men #1, all four covers. Death of Superman. That first wave of Image Comics. I remember bundling upstairs where the super hero comics were. Leaving my school bag downstairs, of course. And scanning the new releases lined up across the floor.

Comic Kingdom was a strange store. It seemed like most of the time they didn’t want you in there. It looked more like an adult book store, with a small side door and no way to look into store from the street. Half of the upstairs was this strange rarities section, roped off and out of bounds. The bottom floor back room was full of strange games and fanzines and again, you’d get asked why you wanted to go in there. And the comics on the ground. The mess everywhere.

Somewhere along the line, Comic Kingdom fell behind the times. I think it was in Scott McCloud’s Making Comics, where he talks about the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, and how the grains of truth in that character had to go if comics were to survive. As comic stores became more family friendly, girl friendly and just generally friendly, Comic Kingdom did not. That small hidden door. Leave your bag downstairs.

Their cross town rivals Kings Comics seemed to understand the changing world of comics better, and thrived. I discovered comics at Comic Kingdom. But I held my standing order at Kings for many years. Other stores that felt like secret clubs, like The Land Beyond Beyond, went away. But somehow, without changing or updating, Comic Kingdom survived. I pass it all the time, but I never go in. I still, now, don’t want to impose.

That facade did a great job advertising comics to Sydney. It’s so faded and out of time. You can’t see into the store. The only change was when they stopped trading on Sundays and the sign says Open 6 Days. But it was in a prominent space, that shop held a promise of fantastic stories and great heroes. In a time when superheroes are such a big part of culture, it is sad to think that one of the key pioneers in Sydney has gone. At some point, so will that wonderful store facade.

It feels odd that as a 90s anglophile, I never really had an opinion on the greatest musical question of my times – is the Stone RosesSecond Coming any good? I had a copy of this, packed firmly away. I probably listened to it, but maybe I didn’t. It is reviewed in the old Mojo I’m going through so I thought- let’s tackle this shit.

Before I do – I love that first Stone Roses album. I don’t listen to it all the time, but when I do, there are moments when I think it could be the greatest album ever made. There is certainly so much about it that is special. I also loved various best of collections, as they had some incredible songs that followed. I come with the expectations the whole world had in 1994. How do you top perfect? The answer is – you can’t. And they didn’t.

A lot have been written about this album’s troubled genesis. The legal battles, the drink and drugs, and so much more. Oh well.

All the big reasons this album sucks remain. God, it is long. Very long. The rush of the new is gone, and the band sounds pretty repetitive in places. Lyrically in particular, Ian Brown has not moved in 6 years. John Squire brings some incredible work, but sometimes he brings nothing and is just doing the same old Squire jamming.

That said, I like what this band does, even if they aren’t at full strength. The full 11 minute version of Breaking Into Heaven sounds incredible. John Squire has so many ideas in just that one song, it opens the album on a promising note. Those other famous songs like Ten Story Love Song still kicks ass, an anthem for the ages.

But there is some filler. Brown’s lyrics seem like a retread, the wide eyed optimism seems naive and simplistic. Add to that songs that all need a good two minutes lopped off means that this album drags along. The first album was 11 tracks in less than 50 minutes. This is 12 tracks in 70+ minutes.

But there I am, comparing it to that first album like everyone else. Which is unfair, because they certainly didn’t want to remake that record. You can feel them wanting to make something weightier, and even more inclusive to a large audience. They also wanted to make songs that fill bigger venues. And they were probably on different and better drugs. They called the album friggin Second Coming.

I cant help it, but half this album is just plain boring. A song like Tears is just a long jam with some lovely moments probably, if you saw it live. But its just an indulgent mess. Theres 40 great minutes in here. Non singles like How Do You Sleep bristle with youth, vigour and spirit. Some of those minutes are truly great.

The other thing is just, the world passed them by. The sheer number of great British records released between 1989 and 1994 meant that this album was just old hat.

So. Second Coming. It is mostly harmless. None of it is bad. But when you made one of the greatest albums of all time, you have to add to the legacy. This album just didn’t do a good enough job of that.

Long Time Running (2007)
The Tragically Hip
Directed by Jennifer Baichwal and Nicolas de PencierNetflix (outside of Canada)

I am probably a rarity when it comes to The Tragically Hip. I am a casual fan. OK, maybe a little bit more, but they are a band that are loved for everything they did, or completely ignored. That usually correlates to how Canadian you are, and a teenage (pretentious) exploration of Canadian music led me to them, the biggest band in Canada. It also helped that they were on Warners, where I worked for a while. In Australia, we valiantly tried to release singles like MyMusic At Work to deafening indifference.

This documentary tells the story of one moment in the band’s history – the final ones. Lead singer and lyricist Gord Downie was diagnosed with a brain cancer. Against the odds, the band rallied for a bunch of farewell concerts around Canada, which became huge, national events. Downie died, shortly after the documentary was released.

There’s a lot of story to tell, and the film takes us through the personal rather than the musical. There’s a lot about the sickness, the decisions made, the effort to learn songs, and the feelings of everyone involved. Only in the very last minutes of the film do we get anything close to a performance of a full song. This is not a way to discover the band’s music. This is also a loving portrait, not a critical assessment. Don’t expect skeletons here.

Where this documentary works best is the feels. At one point, Justin Trudeau turns up, and he is emotionally overwhelmed (Trudeau was in tears when he announced Downie’s death). There’s seas of fans singing along to every song, saying goodbye to their hero. This was a band that had their rabid fanbase, and this film is for them.

The other important part of this film is serving as a portrait of Gord Downie. His lyrics, and his worldview, is much of what gives the band their special flavour. And we get a lot of time with Gord, and him being Gord. We get to see him get dressed, with two socks sown together as a neck tie. The way he kisses and hugs his band mates. And in a touching interview for this film, talks long about life and mortality. He is a special man.

The film takes us through the decision to tour, the planning of the tour, then the tour itself. It ends with their final show in Kingston, a huge event beamed into public parks throughout Canada. There’s lots of tears fans singing along to the big hits when they finally come, like Grace, Too and Ahead By A Century.

This is a special moment, captured. Very few people get to face their death head on, and even fewer have a platform like being the biggest band in their country. It’s not a great place to discover the music, or hear some great music.

Easily, easily my favourite album this year. A quiet, intimate little story telling album, that at places sounds like an extended tribute to Leonard Cohen, but the man can sing and there’s lots of colour. Best are the stories, the lyrics and the rush of images and hope. Unabashedly joyous without being naff, and timeless without sacrificing hooks. I’m still finding new moments of wonder in it every time. The best track is still the first, Firecracker, a simple story, beautifully told, culminating in an image as memorable as anything I’ve ever heard or read.

2. Real Estate – In Mind

Comes in seconds simply due to the number of plays. It’s like Television grew up in a stable family and got some sun. Long blissful jamming matched with long blissful lyrical nonsense. Everything here is serving mood and tone, and they hold it down for a whole album without getting boring. You can hear all the influences but still its own thing. If you like minute-plus intros, you’ll love this album.

3. Elbow – Little Fictions

I’ve always liked Elbow, but as I get older they make more and more sense. Go figure. The band create an inventive, emotional bed for Guy Garvey to be all wise and insightful. And they songs seep in, with incredible hooks, matched with an incredible way that Garvey sees the world. He’s mellowed with age too, and his kitchen sink love songs were the perfect antidote to 2017.

4. Toby Martin – Songs From Northam Avenue

A big change from Toby’s normal inventive pop, he collaborated with a bunch of musicians in Western Sydney to write songs about those suburbs. It leads to a more scrambled, rickety take on Martin’s pop smarts. Far more relaxed and sweet than his previous Love’s Shadow, there are great escapist moments – the single Spring Feeling is a real highlight and doesnt end up where you’d expect.

5. Laura Marling – Semper Femina

Marling continues to be on time – she’s done the Joni Mitchell folk period, and is now two albums into her Joni Mitchell sonic experimental period. This album seems to be a compilation of her last fee years. There’s jazzy songs, intimate acoustic songs and rocking electric songs. She also still sings with the experience of an 80 year old, spinning anachronistic stories about women in strife, and the living of life. Reliable, but let’s hope she mixes it up again.

6. John Kennedy – JFK & The Midlife Crisis

Not sure what I was expecting from a John Kennedy album in 2017, but he has delivered a pleasure of an album. So many of the songs here that sound like they should be radio smashes, with big choruses, and big hooks. His obsession with our place is not lost with plenty of Sydney, almost none more than the wonderful Peter Says, which mentions the Cat Protection Society in Enmore. His voice is sounding particularly great too.

7. Alex Dezen – II

Dezen made my favourite album last year. This doesn’t consistently reach the heights of the last one. It’s still a hopelessly sad album, matched with a more upbeat set, some are truly danceable. Simply put, a couple of duffers on this one, but then also moments of amazing beauty, like New York To Paradise, imagining his mother in heaven and getting her dreams. The themes continue from the last self titled album, and a nice book end. Heartbreaking honesty, without the Ryan Adams type posing, and actual song craft.

8. Paul Kelly – Life Is Fine

Every decade or so, Paul Kelly decides to make a crowd pleaser. And reminds us he can kick pop rock ass, if he only cared to. Life Is Fine is this decade’s collection – so fun, so soulful, so sexy. The first three tracks – Rising Moon, Finally Something Good, Firewood And Candles – are about as great as any Paul Kelly singles. Unlike his contemporaries (Walker, Finn, et all), Kelly has always been more red blooded, and he really lets that part of him shine. Surrounded as usual by a kick ass band, with plenty of Vika And Linda. Album cover of the year too.

9. Jen Cloher – Jen Cloher

Cloher probably knew her new album would be greeted with a big audience, with the success of her label. And in many ways, she has delivered a year one album – restating all the excellent things about her music, uncompromisingly. Restless, repetitive guitars mixed with beautifully thrown away lyrics. It’s less about intimacy, more about big statements. It’s matched with an energy that suggests these songs will be a lot of fun live (the album is incredibly captured).

10. Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott – Crooked Calypso

Three albums in four years, all of them huge chart successes in the UK. Heaton has found a fourth life (after the Housemartins, The Beautiful South and his solo career), and he is revelling in it. Writing for Abbott has brought a sweetness to his songs, and as usual he writes them with more energy and speed than anyone else his age. This album is even more indebted to Northern soul, and the big gospel-ly numbers probably reflect the large rooms they play. He’s still a grumpy old fuck – an unapologetically working class, anti-authoritarian, cynical, bitter bastard. But he makes it sound such fun. The soundtrack to dance with the madness of this year.

Here’s actual music videos from these albums, and 10 other albums/EPs I liked this year.

Dave Edmunds has always been a bit of a Zelig like figure for me. He is associated with and hangs out with a lot of artists I love. But I have never explored his music.

I, of course, know two songs. Both were hits and written for Edmunds – Girls Talk by Elvis Costello and I Knew The Bride (When She Used To Rock N Roll) by Nick Lowe. He is scattered on various compilations (Live Stiffs, the Stiff Records box set, etc) I own, and guested on other records that I his name didn’t front.

I guess what kept me away from Edmunds was that he wasn’t a songwriter, and he didn’t have a special point of view. He just sang cool songs of others. Listening to this compilation, it is very compilation-y. This is a classic 90s best of where they just filled the disc to capacity.

This album is filled with familiar songs. They are all covers – John Fogerty’s Almost Saturday Night, the classical piece Sabre Dance (heard in lots of films) and more. The songs sound pretty good, Edmunds is a fine player and singer. I drift towards the less produced stuff like Crawling From The Wreckage.

In the end, I already had better versions of these songs. And for me, these songs are OK – they all seem to touch upon good time 50s rock n roll, which is not my favourite genre. It’s riff heavy, simple lyrics – I know people who love it, and they are the biggest Dave Edmunds fans I know. It is nice to have a great version of Girls Talk. The version of I Knew The Bride is fine.

After this, I’m not rushing out to buy a whole lot of Rockpile or Dave Edmunds albums. This pub rock era of British music was full of filler, and if this is the best, then I’ve heard it before. It ticks a box, solves a mystery. I’m sure he’s a blast live, he looks neat and has a good voice. His frequent collaborator Nick Lowe talks about Cruel To Be Kind (which Edmonds plays on), saying it was simply his turn to have a hit. Edmunds, he just kind of had a turn.